


House Guest

by inmate23



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: A Minor Character Death-Guess Who, Alternate Pilot, Alternate The Courier, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Liz is a capable agent, No one is related in this story, Slow Burn, Some Humor, This is very Anti-Tom Keen, Tom is already out of the picture, UST, What-If, betting on the long play - the future, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmate23/pseuds/inmate23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a rookie FBI agent and he a seemingly ruthless criminal mastermind on house arrest. S1 AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Blacklist AU, with some scenes and lines borrowed from the episodes. I would call this an exercise and getting back to writing. I’m trying to explore different scenarios in season 1: what if Tom was already out of the picture when Red walks into the FBI’s hands? What if Liz had a different perspective of events from the beginning?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Blacklist, or any of its recognizable characters. No copyright infringement intended.

     

“Agent Keen, thank you for coming. Please have a seat.” Assistant Director Harold Cooper’s lips twitched into a short but pleasant smile, as he extended his hand towards the chair across from him.

  
Liz Keen smiled back at him and sat down, feeling slightly nervous about what she was soon to find out.  
She prided herself on her confidence and ability to deal with many situations, which came about mostly from a very young age and her early childhood and what she was taught by her adoptive father Sam Milhoan. He was a kind and wonderful man who saved her from misery in foster care and single-handedly raised her and loved her till the cancer took him away from her last year.

  
She was still coming to terms with his death. She almost left the academy to care for him when he was at his worst but Sam was adamant that she continue, despite his illness and he told her not to visit till she was done. So she did as she was told but consequently never got to say goodbye to him in person.  
After succesfuly graduating from Quantico, she has proven herself on more than one assignment, especially as a consultant to the DC Metro police, when she helped profile and in the capture of more than a fair number of serial killers. But this invitation, or more like a request to join the newly formed and top secret task force within the FBI, took her completely by surprise.  
While usually a heavy sleeper, which was admitedly odd for someone who got paid to get inside a killer’s mind, she had trouble sleeping last night. She kept wondering what would the well respected Assistant Director for Counter-terrorism want with her, a mere rookie FBI agent?

  
Yes, she has received high praise from her superiors as a profiler but why would they need a very inexperienced field agent, mostly regarded by her colleagues as a paper-pusher, to go and help with a recently captured FBI’s 4th Most Wanted criminal? She thought they already had all they needed to know on him, so her profile of him was completely unnecessary.  
From what she read on the man, he was on the run for more than 20 years, for stealing and selling government secrets and none of the known and lesser known acronym US and foreign agencies, have ever come close to capturing him, until now.  
The funny thing was that technically they still didn’t capture him but he literaly walked right into one of the most guarded government agencies, identified himself and asked to speak to the man, whose office she just sat in.

  
She had to admit to being more than a little intrigued by this.

  
“Did Special Agent Ressler brief you on why you’re here?” Cooper asked, breaking the brief silence.

  
“Yes sir, but it was mostly on the general work of the task force and he gave me a dossier he compiled on this Raymond Reddington you have in custody but…” She trailed off and frowned.

  
“What is it?” Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow.

  
“With all due respect sir, I’m not entirely sure why I was asked to join you. I got an impression from Special Agent Ressler, that he wasn’t pleased to have me here, least of all because of my profiling skills, which in his words was ‘a load of mumbo jumbo’.”

  
Cooper leaned towards her and stared at her intently, waiting to see a reaction, to what he was about to say next. “So I gather he didn’t tell you Reddington asked for you specifically, by name?”

  
Liz’s eyes went wide in shock and surprise. She was definitely not expecting this.

  
When she finally recovered, she shook her head. “No, sir, I can’t imagine why he would ask for me.”

  
Cooper frowned, she seemed genuinely surprised. He thought she was either telling the truth, or was a damn good actress. He imagined that by being a fine profiler and expert on body language, it wouldn’t be too hard for her to disguise the truth. No, Cooper has seen many dishonest people in his line of work and from what he read on her and heard from her previous employers, she was a truly honest, by-the-book person. Which is why it’s even more puzzling that a kind of man like Reddington would ask for her.

  
“Have you ever come into contact with him, or any of his associates in the past?”

  
She shook her head. “Sir, you’ve read my file. I’ve never even worked on organized crime, or counter-terrorism before. I have absolutely no idea how he knows my name.”

  
Cooper nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. He clasped his fingers and leaned back in his chair, levelling her with a serious but kind look. “We will soon find out.” He said.

  
“Sir?” She asked confused.

  
He looked at his watch and back at her. “You are sheduled to meet with Reddington soon. Agent Ressler will accompany you to one of his safe houses.”

  
“Safe house?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought he was held in a federal detention facility?”

  
“Let’s just say, that Reddington gave us an offer we couldn’t refuse. He was moved out of detention to a safe house, a few days ago. In exchange for this offer, among other things, he asked for your… company and a few of his closest, most trusted associates for his security detail.”

  
He removed a stack of files from his drawer and placed two of them on the desk, motioning for her to take a look.  
She took a file and after perusing it for a short moment, read aloud some facts on the subjects. “Dembe, Sudanese, former South Sudan freedom fighter, Reddingon’s bodyguard in the past and from what I can see a very close friend of his.” She took the second file and flipped through it, “Luli Zeng, has a Ph.D in economics from Stanford, a financial genius suspected of moving and handling Reddington’s money, SEC considered her untouchable for many years and she actually evaded capture, until now.”

She frowned. “They were both invisible for years and now they allowed to be captured, just because Reddington asked for them?”

  
“As a profiler, you must find all of this very intriguing, as you were also invited to join this merry group of his loyal associates and friends, even though you’ve apparently never met before.”

  
“To be perfectly candid, sir, and I’m sorry to phrase it like this but I’m confused as hell!”

  
Cooper laughed at that and replied, “You and me both, Agent Keen. Hopefully all will become much clearer when you two have a little chat and you profile him yourself.”

  
She gave him a relieved smile, no longer thinking she was regarded as a suspect because of being asked for by Reddington.  
Before she had a chance to retort, there was a soft but insistent knock on the door.

  
“Yes, come in.” Cooper commanded to the sudden intruder.

  
The door opened and Ressler poked his head in, his expression slightly apologetic.

  
“Excuse me for interrupting, sir but we need to leave.” He nodded at Liz, who gave him a strained smile. She was still nervous, after their earlier slightly intimidating talk, which felt more like an interrogation to her.

  
“Reddington again?” Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow at Ressler.

  
Ressler nodded, let out a frustrated sigh and said, “I think it would be wise to relieve Agent Jones of guard duty as soon as possible. He might get an idea to get rid of our special informant. So we should go there earlier than planned, if Agent Keen is ready?”

  
Cooper gave a short nod in agreement. “Yes, Reddington is an expert on pushing buttons. Agent Keen, are you okay to go with Agent Ressler?”

  
“If you wouldn’t mind making a short stop at my apartment for a change of clothes and a cup of coffee? I’ve been here since 6 a.m. and I really need a short break.” She replied and looked at Ressler pleasantly, who to her relief smiled in understanding.

  
“Yeah sure, but if I were you I’d get something stronger instead. Trust me, after meeting with the great Raymond Reddington, you’re gonna wish you had!” He replied.

  
Liz nodded, deciding not to comment further on his apparent animosity and stood up, extending her hand to shake Cooper’s.

  
“Thank you, sir. For this opportunity to work with you.”

  
Cooper smirked. “You’re welcome, Agent Keen but unfortunately it is Raymond Reddington who gave you this opportunity. Nevertheless, I am sure you will be of great help to us on this task force.”

 

***  
“Is he really that bad? Reddington, I mean?” She asked Ressler after they left Cooper’s office and headed outside to their government issued black SUV. She read about him and heard parts of the story from Cooper but she was interested in further thoughts from her current partner.

  
Ressler shook his head. “You have no idea. The file is only the tip of the iceberg! I have worked on his case and capture for 5 years. He might have offered to help us for the time being and asked for you specifically for some unknown reason but don’t let that charming bastard fool you into thinking he’s turned into a saint, or that you’re somehow special. This is all a means to an end for him and when he’s done playing the good guy, he’ll be back to his old tricks.”

  
Liz nodded and remained quiet, as they drove off in the direction of her apartment building.

  
Close to an hour later and a quick stop at one of the local coffee shops, they were approaching Reddington’s latest safe house. From what she learned, this one was one of the known places he frequently visited, yet stayed at only two nights at a time, due to security reasons. It was a fairly large house that apparently belonged to a long time friend of Reddington’s, an unsuccesful author Frederick Hampstead, who has been dead for several years but left the place to him.

  
When they reached the stairwell in the large hallway, a tall, well dressed and handsome dark-skinned man, who Liz recognised as Reddington’s bodyguard Dembe, gave them a nod in greeting. He obviously knew Agent Ressler from before, staring at him with a stony expression but when his eyes came upon her, his expression instantly softened.

  
“Elizabeth,” The man spoke in a soft, pleasant and welcoming voice.

  
Liz stopped walking at a safe distance from him, her mouth opening in surprise. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

  
Ressler glared at him, trying but failing to intimidate him.

Dembe ignored Ressler completely and genuinely smiled at Liz. “I must apologize for startling you. Raymond spoke very highly of you so many times that I feel as though we are old friends, meeting again after being apart for many years.”

  
She was momentarily in shock at this revelation and the implication that Reddington apparently talked about her to others, as if he knew her for years, in fact so well that the man in front of her immediately recognized her. Liz managed to smile back nervously at the outwardly pleasant man of imposing presence.

  
Unconsciously saving Liz from responding, Ressler cleared his throat and glaring at Dembe, he said, “No offence Dembe but Agent Keen hasn’t come here to chit-chat with you. Is the devil free for an audience?”

  
Liz cringed at the hostility in Ressler’s tone, thinking it very unwise to antagonize and anger Dembe, someone who could easily take him down, or kill him with his bare hands. She marveled at Dembe’s self-control, as he simply frowned at Ressler, crossing his arms in a defensive posture. He was obviously used to Ressler’s behavior.

  
She recovered from her initial shock and offered her hand to him in a friendly gesture, thinking it best to have an ally in someone who didn’t find her threatening and imediately accepted her, even though she was technically an enemy.

Upon meeting her, Agent Ressler did the exactly opposite, he treated her unfairly and was very unfriendly to her, because he thought she had some kind of an association with Reddington.  
Even though he softened up slightly towards her in the past few hours, she didn’t think he came to trust her yet.

  
Dembe smiled again and shook her hand with a firm grip. “He will be very pleased to see you.” He said and started walking up the stairs, motioning with his hand, to follow him to see Reddington, who was spending most of his time, in his favorite part of the house, which the old owner used as a library.

  
Liz thanked him when they reached the room and Ressler asked in a sarcastic tone, “Is he decent?” Before Dembe even had a chance to glare at him, the door suddenly opened and they came face to face with the infamous Raymond Reddington.

  
He extended his hands as if he was about to embrace them and exclaimed, “Welcome!”

  
Liz was stunned by his imposing presence and his striking outward appearance. He was dressed impeccably, from his pristine white dress shirt, black vest, with black slacks, sans the undoubtably black jacket, to finish off the perfectly tailored, three-piece suit ensamble, which he was as Ressler told her, known to wear and a pair of expensive Italian shoes.

  
“My dear Donald, as you can gather from Agent Keen’s openly admiring stare, I’m well and quite handsomely dressed,” he said and winked at Liz, who reddened slightly and inwardly cursed, as her eyes uncosciously strayed to his lips for a brief moment.  
He quickly leveled Ressler with an amused look, “but decent? Never.” He shook his head and laughed, as if it was some private joke between them.

  
It probably was, or at least to Reddington who played a game of cat and mouse with Agent Ressler for five years. Ressler didn’t find it funny at all. Liz noticed he was seething.

  
To Liz, Reddington’s laugh sounded very fake, as well as the expression of aloofness on his aged, yet still handsome face.

  
“Ah, Lizzie! What a pleasure! Please, do come in!” He greeted her pleasantly, cocking his head to the side, and Liz thought she saw a sparkle in his green eyes. Excitement and something she couldn’t yet define. Affection? No, she must be wrong. It was the lighting, she concluded.

  
“Thank you.” Liz managed to reply politely and smiled nervously, before schooling her expression into one of cool and professional detachment.

  
He nodded once and turned at Ressler. “You too Donald, if you must. Agent Jones left earlier, he apparently had some matter of urgency to attend to, so I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with me on your own.” He smirked.

  
Ressler knew all of that as he heard back from Agent Jones and the man was adamant that Ressler had to come and replace him as soon as possible, othewise he would give into the urge and throttle Reddington. Ressler was well aware of Reddingon’s ability to get every single agent tasked to him on the verge of madness.

  
Frankly the general consensus was that the man was an insufferable jerk, who enjoyed riling them up and nobody wanted to work as his detail or handler. They would prefer to be transfered to one of the worst regarded FBI’s field offices, in some relatively unknown country, instead of protecting someone they considered an asshole and a traitor to their country.  
Ressler completely agreed with them but was still forced to work with him.

Even though he didn’t completely trust Agent Keen, he hoped that she’d find a way to avoid the same fate. She looked as smart, as she was beautiful and it would be a real shame for her to waste her career, babysitting a vile man like Reddington.

  
“Please, have a seat,” The man in question gestured for them to follow him inside. “Would you like a drink, Lizzie? The previous owner has left me a lovely wine selection, as well. I know Donald will decline, he’s on duty after all.” Ressler ignored him, opting to stare at his phone, seemingly fascinated with something.

  
She shook her head, with a polite, “It's Agent Keen and no thank you,” and sat down on the comfortable couch, although as far away as possible from Reddington, who poured himself a tumbler of what appeared to be scotch and swiftly downed half of it.  
He then sat down on the other side of the couch, his posture appeared very relaxed for someone who was on the run and in danger, for half of his life. He quietly sipped from the tumbler and stared through the window, the sunset outside was casting some light into the dimly lit library room, the scene was nicely accompanied with the picturesque view from the garden outside.

  
Liz had to admit that if it was anyone else in her company, instead of a known criminal mastermind, she’d almost find the scene quite romantic. All you needed to complete it was some cheesy love song, playing in the background.  
Ressler broke the sudden silence, which Liz found strangely comfortable, with a fake cough. “Got a text from HQ, we have a lead on one of my cases, so I’ll have to leave you two to chat for a while,“ He turned to Liz, “You gonna be okay for an hour or two?”

  
“I think Agent Keen is perfectly capable of handling herself, Donald.” Reddington replied seriously, still staring at the scenery outside.

  
Liz smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Agent Ressler, I’ll be fine.” She was actually relieved he was leaving, as she found it more relaxing to delve into the mind of Raymond Reddington, without Ressler’s agitated presence.  
Ressler merely nodded in return and quickly left, closing the door very loudly.

  
“Donald does not have an acquired taste,” Reddington’s voice startled her slightly and her eyes moved away from the scene to watch in curiosity and fascination how the soft light fell on his handsome face. She would never admit it out loud but this scene, him and his voice made her start to feel things which would be considered very inappropriate by her colleagues.

  
“Ever since we’ve been acquainted, the man has never set foot in a restaurant, other than to suddenly jump out of the bushes and run inside to capture a fugitive,” At that he smirked and continued, “He hasn’t even taken his fiance to eat there. I’ve suggested it to him in many of our short meetings over the years, even offered to pay for it but the man is unbelievably stubborn! No wonder the poor girl left him.” He shook his head and took a sip of his scotch, savouring it and after a moment, Liz decided that he was finished with that particular story.

  
“So Mr. Reddington, are you going to tell me why you asked for me?” She asked, while he still stared at the scenery.

  
He looked back at her and let out a short laugh. “That sounds so informal, Lizzie! I’d prefer it if you would call me Red. All my friends do and if I may say so, this could be the beginning of a beautiful- ”

  
She shook her head in disbelief. “Friendship? Don’t be delusional, Reddington. You are a criminal and I am a government agent. That is all there is. Besides, I find it highly unlikely for you to have any close friends.”

  
Why did she suddenly feel this inexplicable annoyance at his mere presence?

  
His smile faltered for a second but it was long enough for her to notice, as well as the nervous twitch under his eye.

  
“Am I going to get an answer from you?” She insisted.

  
His expression remained serious, while he finished off his drink and set the tumbler on the table.

  
“Your husband.” He simply said.

  
She frowned in confusion and waited for clarification but he didn’t continue.

  
"Tom? In case you didn’t know we’ve been separated for months and I’m waiting for the annulment to come through.”

  
He nodded and went on. “I’m well aware. I must say that was the best decision you’ve made.”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“Tom Keen is not who you think he is.”

  
She nodded, laughing bitterly. “Oh, I know he’s a lying cheating bastard. That’s why we’re seperated.”

  
He shook his head and went on. “Tom Keen is not his real name. It’s an alias. I know him as Jacob Phelps.”

  
“What the hell are you talking about?”

  
“He’s an asset, a professional assassin, an agent for hire. I dealt with him once through an intermediary but he doublecrossed me.”

  
She stared at him in shock, then laughed in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? Tom is a school teacher, he teaches kids in fourth grade!”

  
“That was a front to gain your confidence. Who better than an innocent looking school teacher.”

  
She took a moment to absorb his words. “Wait, are you telling me I was his target?”

  
Reddington chewed on the inside of his mouth before responding. “Yes.”

  
“But why? We married three years ago, I wasn’t even an FBI agent then so there was nothing to gain. There was nothing special about me.”

  
He shook his head as he said. “Oh, I think you’re very special!” Liz saw that twinkle in his eyes again, the one she associated with the lighting earlier.

  
He sighed as he continued, his expression growing more serious. “And that’s the problem.”

  
She stared at him. “What are you saying?”

  
“I hired Jacob Phelps to- ”

  
“You hired him to spy on me, to marry me!” She interrupted him and stood up, her eyes glaring at him in anger. She started pacing the room, trying to regain some composure.

  
“No wonder you know me! You are nothing but a sick stalker!”

  
"No, Lizzie!” He exclaimed in an unusualy desperate voice.

  
She ignored him and hurried towards the door, wanting to get as far away from the man that seemingly violated her life. Her hand grabbed the door knob but hesitated to leave. The sudden curiosity and her profiler instinct, overruled her fear for the moment.

  
Reddingon stood up after her, walking towards her. He raised his hand in the air, wanting to touch her shoulder in comfort but decided against it. He might get hit. Maybe she would let him explain when she calmed down.

  
She turned around, her expression contorted in anger. “So you asked after me because your employee stopped reporting about me? You needed to see your obsession in person!”

  
He shook his head. “No, Lizzie… That’s not it at all! Would you please let me explain- ”

  
“No, I think you’ve said enough! You son of a bitch, you ruined my life!”

  
He decided to chance it and came closer but she misread him and backed away as far as the door.  
Her hand unconsciously strayed to her holster, but she found it empty. Of course, the agent guarding the perimeter took her gun before they entered the house. She glanced around the room, trying to find something she could use as a weapon. Her eyes quickly landed on the pen on the table.

  
He saw her looking at him in fear and stopped his movement, raising his hands in surrender.

  
“You have nothing to fear, Lizzie.” He said, his hands went down, while his eyes followed her frantic movements. “Never from me.” His voice sounded lower, soothing, as if he was speaking to a frightened child.

  
He sighed and his hand went to scratch the back of his neck in an involuntary nervous reaction.

  
She looked back at him, confused. Of course, when she thought about it, it was all quite ridiculous. If he was obsessed with her, why would he hurt her now?  And why wasn’t she calling for outside help if she was afraid?

  
She tried to read him again, his body language. He appeared concerned, contrite. He didn’t look threatening and she was surprised to see some moisture glistening in the corner of his eyes. She took a deep breath and calmed down.

  
Sam used to tell her that sometimes she had a bad habit of overreacting to certain things and could get volatile.

Maybe she should try to listen, maybe there was a plausible explanation as he suggested. But what could possibly justify arranging a fake husband for someone?

  
“Alright, I’m listening.” She said, moving away from him, to sit back down on the sofa. Feeling she was in for a long and distressing conversation, that wine she was offered earlier, suddenly sounded very appealing to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz interrogates Red further, some things stay vague, some are revealed. I'm sorry because this was unbeatad and probably sucks. I've tried to make it better but have a severe creative block. Maybe some constructive comments would help me make it better. Let me know either way, if you feel like it. Some version of this was already posted on tumblr so if it sounds familiar, that's probably why. I hope to add more to end this AU story, while the show runs. Canon is ruined for me but there's still fanfiction land. Thanks for reading.

Liz watched in barely concealed surprise, as the man thought of by the FBI as a dangerous man, psychopath, a traitor to his country, a killer, a destroyer of governments and someone who exuded confidence and power around everyone - fidgeted nervously in his seat. He scratched an itch on his close-cropped hair and a single twitch appeared under his left eye. The usually verbose criminal had trouble meeting her eyes for a moment. He sighed and loosened up his tie and removed it, placing it on the nearby chair. He also undid the first couple of buttons on his crisp white shirt, leaving the black vest on but loose.

Was he trying to project a false sense of ease, she thought, or was this a mask he wore and has this mask finally dropped? Was this the real Raymond Reddington, the one who was once a family man, an honorable and bound-by-duty Naval intelligence officer? She wondered, fascinated by the transformation. Liz concluded that at this moment you couldn't classify him as a high-functioning sociopath either. She wondered if the circumstances in his life, triggered a necessity for another dangerous dormant side, as a way to survive? Far too many questions to answer, will she have enough time?

Her eyes briefly glanced on parts of his revealed skin, noticing he was nicely tanned and then she met his eyes again in expectation, "Well?"

"First let me just say that I am sorry for the pain caused but you must know that my intentions and consequent actions were solely for your benefit and well being."

She couldn't help rolling her eyes and replied bitterly, "Yes I can see how a fake marriage was beneficial for me."

"Lizzie, I fully understand your anger but please, it would be easier to explain, without interruptions." he said, his voice getting slightly impatient.

"Go on," she urged and he continued softly, "I was hoping to stay in the shadows, that the problem I've heard of would be resolved soon without my interference. After all, I knew Phelps was getting increasingly cocky and reckless, having far too many deliances and assignments, in front of your nose. The fool underestimated you and the fact that you have suspected him for a while..."

 Her eyebrows went up in surprise, "How did you know- "

 At his slightly guilty look, she nodded in understanding, "Ah yes, you had someone else follow me?"

"After Phelps, I couldn't fully enthrust just anyone with this responsibility, so I had another one of my close and trusted associates and her team handle your safety."

"Who?" She asked, intrigued.

"You will hopefully never need a reason to meet her in person, only in case of emergency and dire circumstances."

"And what did she tell you?"

"She told me that you were following him for a while and that it was only a matter of time, before he was found out."

"Alright but why all this drama with giving up your freedom for me? Why meeting here?"

"I thought it best to meet you away from the black site, in neutral environment."

She stayed silent for a while, until she came to the realization, "You wanted me to see you without the shackles, not as a prisoner, or a traitor. You wanted me to trust you without government-instilled prejudice."

He nodded once and said, "Yes."

"Still, all of this, you could have made things simpler. Avoided this whole drama? Sent me a warning, a phone call, a meeting?"

"How Lizzie? Please, tell me in all honestly, would you have believed me if I called you to meet somewhere, a complete stranger no less and while I was still in the wind? Would you have believed me then and not have me locked up, without hearing me out? No, this might be dramatic and not what I originaly planned but a more direct, hands-on,  _intimate_ approach was needed."

She sighed. "Alright. What made you reach out to me now? Why not earlier?"

"Fairly recently, it has come to my attention, with the help of one of my contacts, that you were on Tom-Jacob Phelps' hit list."

"You already said I was his target."

"Yes for monitoring but this is different. He was sent a hefty sum to take you out..." He trailed off.

She frowned, at which he continued, "permanently."

"Why now? He could have taken me out long before we married. He had plenty of time." She added bitterly.

"He was still in my employ then and was afraid of what I might do, if he hurt you."

"So what... he's no longer afraid of you?"

"It would seem so, although I believe it has more to do with his new contractor. Who he apparently deems more lethal than me."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Not yet but I will find out." 

She nodded. "What a mess this is." She said and looked up at him seriously. "Just a little over 24 hours ago I still had a relatively normal life, with a prospect of a boring desk job. Then again, a little over a month ago I had a seemingly normal husband with a boring teaching job, a couple of normal boring friends, was considering adopting a child and was generally happy."

She exhaled and rubbed her face in frustration, knowing there's no point in beating a dead horse.

She didn't expect to see shame in his expression, when she peeked through her fingers. "What is it?" She asked.

"Elizabeth, I truly am sorry," he said honestly. “I know it's hard for you to believe this, especially coming from someone like me but I want you to know I never meant any harm to you. Quite the contrary.” She stared into his eyes, the caring and compassion she found there, in such an unexpected place, finally broke the wall that kept her tears at bay. She hated her loss of composure, the second time and it happened again in front of him.

Red felt sharp pain in his chest. Watching her like this was painful. It was torture. Red always believed that people's actions mean more than words. There was nothing in this world that Red wanted more, than to comfort her properly, to show her that she was not alone and how much he cares but at this point in time, when their relationship is in its early stage, it would not be wise to show her any kind of physical affection. Especially not now, when they were under close observation, not only by hers, but by no doubt several other acronym agencies. Both of their values were questioned and he could not jeopardize her safety. He opted for words instead, words were safer this time. Besides any advances towards her, even if benign, could seem very inappropriate and would perhaps frighten her further and he did not want that, so he threaded carefully. “Elizabeth-Lizzie,” He tried softly.

She wiped her eyes and asked, “Yes?” He smiled gently at her, “I want you to know, no matter what happens, you _can_ trust me.”

She sniffled and managed to say, “I can't believe I'm saying this and rationally I know that I shouldn't feel this way...because it's crazy..." she shook her head, "but for some reason I do trust you.” 

He stared at her in wonderment. She was amazing. 

“Before we go any further, there's something I'd like you to explain, for the time being.”

“Yes?” He asked.

“Why?” She questioned.

“Why what?”

“Why me? You said I was special but I am a nobody.” 

He smiled wider at her. “You're wrong, you're very special.” As he said this, she detected an air of something deeper, some very familiar emotion in his voice, something she dared not associate with this seemingly dangerous criminal. Still she added it to her growing mental profile on him, for later scrutiny.

She didn't let his open admiration of her confuse her and soon he cleared his throat and his expression became closed off, blank again. 

“But why? Because you knew my father? Because you need me for something” She raised her eyebrows at him, challenging him to answer.

She waited patiently and watched him. In fact she deliberately stared directly into his eyes, until he blinked. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Lizzie, all you need to know right now, is that you needn't be afraid of me. And that I will not let anything happen to you."

"I don't need anyone's protection, I can take care of myself." 

"Of course you can." 

"Who are you?" 

"I will be whatever you want me to be, to guide you every step of the way."

"Tell me, why am I so important to you? Are you my biological father?"

He looked disgusted, all of a sudden. "No, Elizabeth, I am _not_ your father. In fact, we are not related in any way. I am very sorry if I disappointed you." 

"I'm not-" Before she could properly reply, there was a soft knock and the door opened to reveal his bodyguard Dembe.

“I apologize for intruding, the agent at the door said there was a commotion?”

Liz was surprised to see a look of concern directed at her instead of Reddington. The man in question smiled briefly at Dembe, no doubt relieved he was saved from further interrogation for the moment and replied, “It is fine, my friend. Agent Keen was briefly distressed over some news.”

Dembe didn't avert his gaze from her. “Are you well, Elizabeth?”

If it were anyone else addressing her by this name, she would have objected and corrected him but there was something about Dembe and his respectful and compassionate approach to her, that made him even more endearing and trustworthy to her. She wondered how this gentle man ended up with someone like Reddington? It was hard to believe their close friendship, based on their differences in character. Or maybe like with her soon to be non-existent husband, there was another story to it that she was not privy to. He was just as intriguing as Reddington and she hoped to learn something more about him.

She blinked, her lids sticky from recently shed tears and cleared her throat, managing a small reassuring smile in his direction. “Yes, I will be fine. Thank you, Dembe.”

He didn't look pleased with her answer but after a brief glance at Reddington and something akin to disapproval flickering on his face, which surprisingly made Reddington avert his eyes to the window, he nodded in acquiesence.

“Very well. If there is anything you require I will be outside. When you wish to leave simply call on me.”

She smiled at him, grateful to have him on her side, while he closed the door behind him.

“Dembe is truly one of a kind, a splendid human being, a wonderful friend and companion.”

Liz turned to stare at him, surprised at the sound of affection in Reddingon’s voice. Even though she heard it briefly directed at her, it was still strange to hear it coming from the man that everyone thought of as a hardened criminal mastermind, _a monster_. And she saw that sparkle again in his eyes, the same one he had when he spoke to her earlier. 

“He is one of the few people that I trust, not only with my life but with yours.” He continued softly, his gaze finally landing on her again. Even with the small quirk of his lips into a short-lived smile, the mask of indifference was firmly back in its place.

She frowned at his wording and noticing her momentary confusion he elaborated. “While I am still in the process of negotiating my immunity deal with your colleagues and ironing out a few kinks on my very own _Most Wanted list of criminals you never knew existed...”_ He trailed off seeing her disbelieving look and chuckled before adding, “Yes it's quite a mouthful, isn't it? Frankly I'm thinking of a different title, maybe the Blacklist, yes that sounds exciting!” He smiled excitedly at her but when she didn't respond and gave him an exasperated stare instead, he cleared his throat in unaccustomed discomfort and went on, “There is a certain caveat to our arrangement, while I'm still confined to this house and until you adjust to your new working environment, Dembe will be your constant shadow and my eyes and ears, so that everything goes according to plan.”

He noticed she was about to object, “If you want us to work together and receive some information in return, you'll have to accept my terms.”

She considered this warning briefly, deciding to agree with him for the moment. “And what's your plan?”

He chuckled, the laugh sounding very fake. “Now that would be like spoiling the ending of a very good mystery novel!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz has an eventful morning. She bonds with Ressler and Dembe. Red offers his first Blacklister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I'm very sorry for taking this long to update. Had this chapter written ages ago but then I edited it several times as I wasn't completely happy with it. I'm still not pleased with it but if I don't post it now, I'll probably never post it.  
> The first part with Liz was especially difficult to write, also not too sure about Ressler, or her attempt to talk with Dembe and if they're properly written. I hope it's not too bad. Feel free to give me constructive comments, my writing needs constant improvement. Thank you to all those who took the time to leave me a comment so far and thank you for reading. More to come, hopefully soon.

Something wasn't right. Her heart was beating wildly. Liz opened her eyes and saw Tom standing next to her bed, glaring at her. He looked different, an utter mess, his clothes appeared baggy, at least one size too large for him and his hair was long and unkpempt and his youthful face seemed dirty and was covered by a long messy beard. He looked like a hermit, no a hobo. She would've laughed at his appearance, if not for the crazy look in his eyes and his hand pointing _her_  gun at her. The one she kept in her night stand. She frowned, how did he get it without her hearing him? She removed her blanket and jumped from the safety of her warm bed.

“Looking for this?” He asked menacingly, waving the gun. He sneered at her.

“I'll scream.” She said calmly, while looking around the room for something to use as a weapon.

“You won't,” he replied confidently. “Not when you hear what I have to say. About Reddington.”

“I don't care what you have to say. You better leave now, or he'll find you here. He won't be as lenient.”

“Reddington already knows where I am and is coming here. But you need to know that you can't trust him, Liz.”

She laughed bitterly. ”Oh, really, Tom, or is it Jacob, or whoever the hell you really are? You're the one to talk, you hypocrite! You've lied to me, cheated on me for years and now you're telling me who to trust? Bastard!” She gritted out angrily.

“You need to listen to me, Liz!” Tom said. “He is using you and when he gets what he needs, he'll kill you. I'm here to help you, Liz, can't you see?” He raised his voice, agitated that she wasn't listening to him.

“If you are trying to help me, why don't you put the gun down, huh? Put it down and I'll listen.” She responded with the calmness that she didn't know she had left.

He ignored her plea and went on. “Did he tell you? Did he tell you anything about your father? About the fire?” He pointed the gun at the burn scar on her wrist.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her scar itched and she fought the urge to rub it, scratch it. The night of the fire. The nightmare from her childhood. The one that woke her screaming every night until she was 6 and living with a fourth foster family and one that stopped when her father Sam adopted her. If not for the burn scar, she would've thought they were a figment, not something that really happened, just nightmares. After she woke from one, she could only remember the smoke and the fire, smell of burning wood and plastic and nothing else. For a long time, she believed she probably lost her parents in the fire. And that was why she remembered so little, she simply blocked it out because of trauma. Sam didn't know who they were, he promised to find out but if he ever did, he never told her. Years later, she yearned to know about her biological parents but that didn't mean that she didn't consider Sam Milhoan her father. He's the one who raised her and loved her and the only one she had, who was close. Aside from crazy aunt June and this rich uncle who sent them money every once in a while. But he didn't count.

“You need to ask him, Liz, for the real truth about why he turned himself in to the FBI.” He pressed.

She shook her head. “I know why. He told me. Because of you.”

“No. It's not what you think-” Before he could finish, the door to her room slammed open and Reddington - larger than life in his black coat and wearing a matching fedora hat and looking furious as hell – stormed in, his weapon drawn, barrel pointed at Tom.

Tom was already pointing the gun in his direction. “Reddington!” He said, his expression changing into one of pure fear. But it lasted a brief moment and then the mask of confidence was back.

“Red!” She couldn't help but shout in a relieved tone. He came for her.

Reddington made another calculated step into the room, his gun never leaving his target.

“Elizabeth, are you alright?” He asked, too gentle for the current situation. She was touched by his concern.

She managed a smile and said. “Yes.”

Red nodded and turned his attention back to her nervous soon-to-be annulled husband.

“I should have finished you off long ago.” He said.

Tom ignored him and pleaded with her. “Ask him. Make him answer, Liz.”

“You doublecrossed me and then you hurt Elizabeth. You deserve to die.”

“Damn it, Liz! I'm the good guy here!” Tom yelled, she detected fear in his voice.

“You need to ask him. You deserve to know the truth. Can't you see? He doesn't want you to know he was there that night, the fire--” One moment of distraction, a look away and Reddington used it to his advantage. Before Tom could react, he was kicked in the head with Reddington's gun and he fell down, unconscious.

She thought Reddington would shoot him then and there, with the way he was burning with rage but he shocked her when he turned away from the slumped body and slowly walked over to her, like a hunter approaching his prey. When he reached her, he went down on his knees and staring into her eyes fondly, he pressed his gun gently into her hands, until she grabbed and took it from him, still in shock.

“Is this what you want, Agent Keen?” He finally asked and then moved her hands, so that the barrel pressed to his forehead. He stared at her calmly, no fear in his warm green eyes. He was completely at her mercy.

She stared back intensely. She shook her head _no_ and moved the gun away from him. She lowered her hands, the gun felt cold and heavy. She shivered, goosebumps appearing on her skin but not because of cold but because just then she remembered wearing only her sleeveless t-shirt and panties. Still she was not uncomfortable in front of this man. She was absolutely sure he would not hurt her. She stared into his eyes, she noticed his pupils were larger, an unconscious reaction to her state of undress. He was a man, an older, handsome, experienced man and obviously attracted to her. She would lie if she said she wasn't flattered by his reaction to her body and watching him for a few moments, warmed her up quickly. She smiled at him and watched as his expression changed into one of awe.

“What do you really want?” He said, still kneeling in front of her, like a loyal knight waiting for his queen's order. “Lizzie?” He tried again softly.

Instead of answering him she walked over to Tom, who was still uncounscious and raised the gun at his head, she checked, the safety was off. All she needed to do was pull the trigger.

***

Liz woke up breathing heavily, exhausted and sweaty. She was hot. What a dream! Starting as a nightmare and ending up like... what? She should feel shame but she felt elated and dare she say aroused? 

She checked the digital clock by her bed, it was flashing 00:00 which meant that at some point her electricity went out and she was–she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, eyes widening at the 9:05 - she was so late! She was supposed to be at the Post Office two hours ago. She swore and got up, her legs wobbly, stumbling to the bathroom. She was out of breath, had a migraine from lack of proper sleep and she was soaked. She needed a long soothing shower but due to time, she'd have to settle for 5 minutes.

After getting out of the shower and feeling somewhat better, as she was towelling off, she noticed her phone was flashing with a new message. She grabbed it in her hand, hoping it wasn't her new boss Harold Cooper, or Ressler, asking where the hell was she and how dare she be late for her second day?

Unknown caller. She read. It was a voice mail. It's got to be from him. Her criminal informant. She laughed at that thought. Her informant, like she had him, owned him. She sobered up and she pressed play.

 _"Good morning, Elizabeth!"_ Reddington's smooth and overly cheerful voice sang from the speaker. She was not a morning person, definitely not before she had her coffee but she had to admit how pleasant and appealing his voice sounded at that moment, it made her feel... no, stop it Liz! You need coffee.

 _"I hope you've had a good night's rest,"_ she listened further, _"I wanted to inform you I took the liberty of letting Harold Cooper know you'd be in at the Post Office slightly later this morning as you were overwhelmed from the... events yesterday and you were coming to terms with certain truth you learned about... your... husband. Harold was surprisingly supportive. The man has two daughters, so I think he understands."_ Great, she thought, now they'll baby her and pity her. She paused the message and went to get dressed.

She decided on a smart two-piece black business suit, which consisted of black jacket and pants, with a burgundy blouse underneath and she put on a pair of black sensible leather low heel shoes. High heels would not be very appropriate in her new line of work. And she fully expected lots of field work, when Reddington starts dishing out cases to her.

Shoes on, she sat down at the kitchen table and pressed on the voice message, while she applied some basic make up, staring at her small portable mirror.

Reddington's voice continued softly, _"Dembe will come by with the car to pick you up at 9:30,"_ she checked her watch, it was 9:25. _"Don't worry about breakfast, he'll be stopping by with a bag of various bagels from this lovely little bakery, two blocks away from Hampstead's house and with some coffee from your frequently visited coffee shop down the street."_ She was confused. She didn't know if she should be touched that he thought about her breakfast, or creeped out by the fact that he knew her favorite coffee shop.

He cleared his throat and went on thickly, she imagined him scratching his head in nervousness. _"Lizzie I... I hope you are feeling better today. I wish you..."_ he trailed off briefly, _"Please accept my apologies again for keeping you up yesterday and everything that's happened in your life. Even though it is not completely my fault, I'm very sorry."_ He cleared his throat again and added. _"I will speak with you later. As we agreed, Dembe will keep me appraised of the Post Office business and your well being. Have a good day, Lizzie."_ The message ended and she stared at it, lost in thought, until she heard the bell sound on her front door. Dembe has arrived.

*******

If she thought her second day at the Post Office wouldn't be too demanding, Cooper and Ressler were quick to dash it, giving her two large piles of case files to review, to test her profiling, as Cooper explained, when he dropped in to greet her shortly after 10 am, right after Ressler dropped them off on her desk, in their shared office. Well at least she had an office this time and not a cubicle, like when she worked as a consultant profiler for DC Metro PD. At least 5 hours and a slight crick in her neck and migraine later, Ressler finally raised his head from one of his current case files, which he said needed his complete concentration to fill out the missing details, as he proudly claimed, he solved it, "finally got his perp".  

He cleared his throat. “So I gotta ask, what is _he_ doing here?” Her new partner spoke up with distaste and glared at her shadow, as Dembe simply stood silently but vigilantly in the corner, boring occasional holes in his direction.

“He drove me here and he's also my new bodyguard,” Liz responded in a none too pleased tone, yet still managed to smile sincerely at Dembe, thinking it was not his fault, he was ordered by Reddington to protect her, while he stayed on house arrest in that mansion.

Ressler frowned and laughed bitterly at that news. “You're kidding, right? I'm your partner, it's my job to protect you, not to mention this black site being full of equally competent bodyguards if needed.”

Liz shook her head and responded. “Why does every man I meet want to protect me? Do I look like some frail creature? I'll have you know, I finished Quantico training at the top of my class, I'm a pretty good marksman, fairly competent in hand-to-hand combat, if slightly rusty due to having more profiling experience than field work and I resent this macho misogynist bullshit I keep getting from people I work with and I want it to stop! I might be new to this task force and could use a bit of occasional assistance with catching criminals and will offer the same in return but I'm _not_ some damsel in distress that needs saving every five minutes. Give me some credit, will you!”

If Ressler's eyebrows went any higher up on his forehead, they'd be touching his hairline. He leaned in his chair, his expression one of utter disbelief, his mouth opening, obviously prepared to give her a piece of his mind but she decided to speak up again to defuse a potentialy explosive conversation. She noticed that Dembe tensed, his hands clenched at his sides but stayed wisely silent during the exchange.

She sighed, her anger deflating, replaced by some embarassement. “I apologize,” she started and Ressler's expression softened a little and she continued, “it was discrespectfull of me to speak to you in such a way and I'm sorry for that. It's just that I'm so tired of being thought of as someone that constantly needs protection, not because I'm new but mostly because I'm a woman. And all of this, this thing with being a criminal's go-between, is not making it any better. You know, I always thought my first proper case with the Bureau will be spent in some cubicle, pooling over data, staring at the files and photographs for hours and trying to read, or make a profile that would help catch perps but this... Never thought this would happen!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Never in my wildest dreams!”

“And I'm sorry too,”She heard Ressler say, a brief consilatory smile forming on his mouth. “mostly for being rude to you, I realize that this was not something you chose. You didn't choose to be on that bastard's beck and call. And I feel really bad for you. I can understand how overwhelming this must be, your first day working here but not because you were chosen for your skills or achievements but because he asked for you...” He trailed off, trying but failing to hide a slight sneer of resentment.

He shook his head. “It took me years to get within an inch of him, I was so close, thinking I finally had him in Brussels and then he disappeared, slipped out of my hands, until...”

“He showed up on his own, surrendered and asked for me, instead of you?” She finished for him.

He nodded. “Yeah. That's why I reacted so badly to you being here. I guess I wanted him all to myself.”

She smiled, “Watch it Agent Ressler, Dembe's here, you don't want him telling Reddington that you don't want to share him, do you? He might think you really like him and things are already complicated as it is.” She teased.

“You're a piece of work!” He laughed genuinely, which made her laugh in return. “You are not what you seem, Agent Keen. I'm glad! I think I might actually like working with you, for however long this will take.” He extended his hand towards her. “So what do you say? Partners?”

She stared at it briefly, then grabbed it in her own, squeezed it firmly and said, “Yeah, partners”

“So you really have no idea?” Ressler asked.

“About what?”

“Why he asked for you?”

She shook her head. “I can't wrap my head around it. But I will find out.”

He nodded, “I've no doubt about it. Well, good thing is as far as DNA goes, you're not related.”

She nodded in aknowledgement. “That's why you asked for a sample from me, to compare.”

Ressler raised his eyebrows. “You are not surprised?”

She shook her head. “I did ask and he told me we weren't.”

“And you believed him?” He asked, disbelief showing in his expression.

“Let's just say I used my 'mumbo jumbo' expertise and he was pretty much an open book, well okay more like the short confusing prologue.” She laughed slightly nervous.

“Yeah,” he scratched at his neck and smiled weakly, consilatory at her, “sorry about the 'mumbo jumbo' comment when we first spoke. I still don't completely believe in that psycho-babble stuff but I'd be a fool not to use every resource and tehnique available to get the job done.”

“Nicely put, Agent Ressler, I must remember to use that one when I give my next lecture at the Academy.” She smiled widely at him, thinking that maybe working with him won't be as bad as she first thought. Maybe he was just another case of bad first impression? Maybe she shouldn't judge a book by its cover, like with Reddington? She laughed inwardly at that thought. If Ressler knew she was comparing him to Reddington, he'd flip out!

“And look at it this way, he could have used that one to his advantage, to make him more trustworthy and yet he didn't.” She pointed out.

“That's true.” He said. “So, what do you say we get some lunch?”

Liz smiled at Ressler and looked at Dembe, who straigtened up as if he was a soldier awaiting her orders.“Dembe, would it be okay, if we went out for some lunch? We've been cooped up here for hours.” She asked.

Instead of a reply he pulled out a black disposable phone from his pocket and flipped it open to call someone. Liz shared a brief confused look with Ressler, until Dembe finaly spoke to the person on the line. “Elizabeth would like a lunch break with Agent Ressler?” He waited for the other person to respond, then continued. “Yes. I will.” He offered the burner to Liz, “It's Raymond, he needs you, Elizabeth.”

She frowned at the words used but took the phone to answer the call. As it may be case related and she had a partner now, she placed the phone on the desk and activated the speaker. “Reddington, you need me for something?”

“ _Oh yes, Agent Keen I have a case! Your first Blacklister!”_ Reddington’s overly cheerful voice suddenly boomed from the speaker. Ressler cringed. Even the man's voice grated on his nerves.

“Right now, Reddington? I was just about to have some lunch with Agent Res...” She started explaining but was interrupted.

“ _Yes, great idea, Elizabeth, not good working on an empty stomach! That's why we're going to have lunch first, work later.”_

“We?” She asked.

He chuckled. That fake laugh of his, as Liz has recognized. “ _Yes we, Elizabeth, as in you and I and before you ask Donald, no I'm afraid you're not invited!”_ He stated.

Ressler rolled his eyes and muttered sarcasticaly. “Shame and I was so looking forward to it.” Liz smirked at him.

“Alright, do you have anything in particular you'd like to order? I was thinking Chinese-”

“ _No takeout, Lizzie! Don't worry, food will be waiting for you when you arrive.”_

“Oh...Okay I'll see you then.” She ended the call and returned the phone to Dembe, who took out the battery and broke off the phone in several parts, which he'll probably despose off somewhere outside.

“So Dembe, you're my designated driver again. Lead the way.” She pointed ahead of him.

“I'll see you tomorrow morning, Keen.” Ressler told her as she was walking out.

“Tomorrow? But it's barely 2pm-”

“Trust me, knowing that guy, your briefing will take hours, And by the time he starts with his anecdotes, you'll be exhausted, besides I think you did enough here for today. I'll tell Cooper.”

“Oh, okay, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I'll call you if something changes.”

***

“So what is this Blacklister that he wants me to profile?”Liz asked Dembe, as they were settling down in Reddigton's black bulletproof Mercedes. Dembe adjusted the rearview mirror and started the engine, steering them away from the PO's underground parking garage.

“I do not know. Raymond hasn't informed me yet.” He finally answered her, when they reached the first traffic light.

“Dembe, can I ask you a personal question?”

She saw his smile reflected in the rearview mirror as he answered. “Of course, Elizabeth.”

“How come you're with him and you seem close... not like employer and employee, like friends? You're on first name basis?”

“Raymond is my best friend, my brother and only family I have left. The rest I can not say... It is my past. You will learn it in due time.”

“But you two, you're so... different. How can you...”

“Work for him? Be his friend, his brother?”

“Yes, how? I am having trouble understanding this. And his file, I've been reading it and all the FBI reports and it doesn't match with what I've seen of him so far. It was obviously written by someone who never spent much time in his company and made up a profile, based on hearsay, prejudice. Of course he was on the run, hard to catch for years but as I understand it, Ressler's had plenty of close encounters with him. He could've taken the time to take more notes. There's only a dozen pages on him in his file, with couple of old photos and nothing else. The rest are reports on his crimes.” She shook her head.

“It is true. Raymond is not who you, or others think he is. You will need to write a new unbiased profile.”

“He said he wanted me to meet him without government instilled prejudice.”

Dembe nodded. “Yes. To see him, to know him openly as he is. As I know him.”

She managed a smile in his direction. “I will certainly try to figure him out. Thank you, Dembe. You're a good man.”

Dembe smiled back and replied. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I was blessed with good care, proper education and a positive role model.”

 

 


End file.
